


Model Rivalries

by Blue_Sparkle



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: F/F, Female Aziraphale (Good Omens), Female Crowley (Good Omens), Human AU, Ineffable Wives | Female Aziraphale/Female Crowley (Good Omens), Secret Relationship, brief descriptions of a fire, brief fat shaming, from Gabriel, models au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-27
Updated: 2020-10-27
Packaged: 2021-03-09 00:41:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,328
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27225973
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blue_Sparkle/pseuds/Blue_Sparkle
Summary: As models from two rivaling agencies Crowley and Aziraphale can't be seen even so much as being too friendly to each other in public. Tip toeing around the watchful gaze of their bosses, gossip bloggers, and the precarious conditions of their careers is not the best foundation of a relationship though...Combination of Art and Fic
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 32
Kudos: 147
Collections: Ineffable Wives Exchange 2020





	Model Rivalries

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Throwaway_Lex](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Throwaway_Lex/gifts).



> A gift for throwaway_lex who asked for a Rival Models AU

It was, as far as Crowley was concerned, the worst part of the job. The rivalries. Why bother really, when she was unique. Slender and sharp in that edgy way, able to project an attitude with any haircut and any sort of outfit. Not to mention, the rather unique element of her eyes, which set her apart from the competition. Sure, there was always photo editing for the bright shade of brown that nearly looked golden in certain light, not to mention contact lenses to mimic her coloboma. Yet most who wanted to hire a model would rather get one that stood out from the crowd without any such tricks.

Bee saw it differently of course. Managing Hell Fire Recruitment while Luc was someone only knew where, they rarely paid attention to anything remotely close to a “healthy workplace environment”.

Competition among the actual talent within the group was encouraged, with snide remarks from all directions keeping Crowley aware of how precarious her position was. If she wasn’t Luc’s favourite and a teacher’s pet at that, she was sure she’d have been kicked out, or perhaps ended up with lipstick spilled into her bag or pearls thrown before her or something equally uninspired. Not to mention, the rivalries with _other_ agencies.

“You’re getting too old for the fancy make up crap,” Bee complained at Crowley every time she lost out on a bland job to the Adversary. “And who cares if the specialized edgy magazines are a sure pull. You can’t let those sanctimonious tramps get away with this!”

The Adversary, in this case, was Heaven’s Gifts, or more likely their CEO, Gabriel Arch. This, most of the time, tended to be jobs that Crowley wouldn’t have been suited for anyway.

“Honestly, Bee, do you really think the brief of _innocent blushing virgin on her wedding night_ would have been right for me?” Crowley snorted, looking up from her phone briefly. Bee had been ranting all day now, ever since the magazine with the offending bridal wear lingerie special had come out. Not to mention, all the days before. “It would have ruined my image.”

Bee shot Crowley a look that would have made a lesser woman shrivel up in fear.

“It’s about the god damn competition,” Bee hissed, and Crowley let it go at that.

That day Crowley collected one of the offending magazines and drove her gorgeous vintage Bentley back home to her stylish appartement. It wasn’t very nice in itself, bare concrete and a state of the art kitchen she’d never used. Deeper inside were her treasures though. A bedroom built for comfort and sleeping for days on end if necessary, trying to handle jetlag from international jobs, lush green plants, and the photography Crowley managed to do on the side. Bee hadn’t cared about her degrees at all, had waved her off the moment Crowley had so much as hinted at wanting to get into the other side of the modelling business. Who cared for awards Toni Jay won for her work if Anthonia J. Crowley was already forced into the mould of a model after all.

Crowley fell against her pillows with a sigh and flipped open the magazine again. It opened on the main spread immediately, the right side full of text she couldn’t care less for, and the left…

Well, A. Z. Fell wasn’t called an angel of the modelling business for nothing.

Sprung from Crowley’s dreams with soft timeless beauty Aziraphale looked up from the pages with a face suited more for paintings and brush strokes of old masters than glossy pages. Her lips were slightly parted and her eyes soft, the flawless expanse of her skin hidden just so by lace and silk. Her expression was one Crowley had caught glimpses of in the past, had fallen in love with despite her better judgement. Miss Fell was a household name, a guest on TV shows and the face of several fashion lines through the years. Her success as a plus size model had grown into being one of the UK’s leading models period, and she was the opposite of Crowley in every way. Soft and kind, projecting sweetness and ethereal beauty and known for being rather easy to work with.

That woman on the page before her had once been a girl with a well concealed streak of mischief, had once giggled with Crowley at an industry event and shared drinks before those had turned into kisses and soft touches and a giddy ride back to a small apartment and a night of bliss. They’d met at an industry event, both fresh faces in the business and unaware of the rivalry between their agencies being quite serious indeed.

Crowley looked at the bridal fashion Aziraphale was sporting with naked longing, before tossing the magazine aside and burying her face in the pillows with an annoyed growl. None of that, not while Heaven and Hell still had their claws in both their careers.

*

Aziraphale sat curled up in the only comfortable chair of the office, hands wrapped around a mug of cocoa. Gabriel had made comments about her eating habits again, hinting at the need to drop weight or lose her job. As if Aziraphale hadn’t made both herself and Heaven’s Gifts millions based on her appearance in the past twenty years. As if Aziraphale’s contributions to the company hadn’t long transcended that of a beautiful face and ability to model whatever concept it was people threw at her.

With a glance towards the heavy folders at her side, Aziraphale sighed heavily and set down her mug. How she’d ended up managing the talent and taking over selecting the right people for the job she wasn’t sure. Perhaps it was just that she couldn’t help but be sickly sweet, and make sure everyone around her was happy and comfortable, mothering any model that crossed her path. Perhaps it was her sense for business and her eye for fashion, helping her decide who could fulfil what assignment the best. Somehow she’d ended up doing all that work though, which perhaps was for the best. Neither Gabriel nor any of the other high-ranking members of Heaven’s Gifts were known for their kind touch in managing their wards.

She pulled the folder into her lap and opened it to the photos of Eve Gautier, an up and coming star among fresh talent. While still freelance, her contract was as good as Gabriel’s.

Aziraphale looked at the pictures of the young woman, smiling with her dark eyes shining with mirth. Eve was known for teaming up with underground designers and being happy with unconventional shoots. None of that would be acceptable at Heaven’s Gifts, who rather preferred to do things by the book in the old and tried way. No room for controversy or negative attention at all.

The office was abandoned, and had been for hours, but still Aziraphale looked over her shoulder carefully before turning the pages past several other independent models until she landed on the shoots of her very favourite.

Anthonia J. Crowley, looking up from the page, her naked torso bathed in harsh red light and her modesty only preserved by a draped jacked. Her eyes were narrowed, her lips curled in what could nearly be described as a mocking smile. A challenge. Aziraphale shivered as she thought of the times she’d been the target of said smile.

Crowley’s smiles were as varied as the styles she’d gone through over the years. While Aziraphale had always been the same (both out of habit and from Gabriel encouraging her to maintain brand recognition), Crowley rarely went 6 months without mixing it up a little. The only constant was the sweetness of the one smile Aziraphale had never ever seen in photos. Only ever for her, the private smile just for moments when Crowley looked as if she was about to say something they would both regret… she never did, for Aziraphale’s sake. For both their sakes.

*

Aziraphale woke up from what must have been a short nap. The familiar strangeness of a hotel room greeted her, as well as a cold bed. She looked around to find Crowley outside on the balcony, overlooking the nightly cityscape, cigarette in hand. She’d put on her clothes at some point.

Aziraphale found her coat nearby, and draped it over her shoulders to ward off against the cold before joining Crowley.

“Are you alright?” she asked softly.

Crowley’s lips twitched and then she looked at Aziraphale, her unguarded eyes serious and sad.

“Run away with me, angel,” Crowley said. “Sod all this shit. Sod Bee, and sod Arch and all the others. Lets make our own agency. We’d be happy at our jobs again, and we’d be _together_.”

Aziraphale’s mouth dropped open. Crowley had never dared even hint at… anything at all. Not about this.

“What… we can’t just…”

“Angel, you’re practically running that entire place yourself. You could gather a bunch of models and they’d follow you anywhere knowing you’d treat them right. You have business contacts and know where to find jobs for anyone. And I know half the technicians and photographers in every major city in the world.”

Aziraphale stared at Crowley for a moment longer, then turned away, unable to face the sincerity in those beloved eyes.

“We can’t do that, Crowley,” she whispered, not daring to look at the woman next to her. “You know we can’t. It wouldn’t work.”

“We could make it work. Don’t you want to be free? Just the two of us, doing what we want, not having to listen to anyone else.”

“There is no us, Crowley. There never could be.”

Crowley, bless her, didn’t say anything. Just looked at Aziraphale for a moment longer, and Aziraphale, coward that she was, didn’t dare face the heartbreak she’d surely see there.

Finally, Crowley turned away and took another drag from her cigarette, leaving Aziraphale to wander back to the bed they’d shared less than an hour ago. That was already more than they could dare get away with, and Aziraphale shuddered from the cold and the sudden thought that it couldn’t last forever. Not like this. But there was nothing else they could do, not really. They’d lose everything if they were discovered. No matter what Crowley seemed to think, Aziraphale wouldn’t make it anywhere, if not for Heaven’s Gifts and its support.

This was for the best.

*

Aziraphale barely held on to the umbrella as she stood outside the hospital. A minor scrape, she’d been lucky, and had she not been sent home early, she’d have ended up caught in the fire as well…

The wind pulled and tore at her coat, the tartan umbrella, her cracked mobile phone clutched in her hand. The poor thing hadn’t gotten nearly half as lucky during the little tumble they’d both taken. Unsafe working conditions indeed, and that after Gabriel had insulted her and sent the others as a reminder to always stay loyal to their company…

Damn gossip blogs and their ability to uncover secrets.

Aziraphale heard the Bentley way before it tore through the near empty parking lot and skidded to a lopsided halt near her. Crowley stumbled out of it before Aziraphale could even try walking towards the passenger door.

The poor dear looked a right mess. Soot covered her hair and expensive clothes, the usually careful curls a mess of water and ash. Even at the distance Aziraphale could see that tears had cleared tracks through the mess on Crowley’s face, and she still looked to be close to weeping.

A pained cry ripped from Crowley’s throat as she saw Aziraphale stand in front of her, and within moments she threw her arms around Aziraphale and sobbed openly, voice cracking.

“You were gone,” Crowley cried, face buried against Aziraphale’s neck. “Hastur called to threaten me about that fucking blog and said that they’d… that they’d teach you a less if I didn’t- And then the fucking studio was on fire!”

“I’m here,” Aziraphale soothed, angling her umbrella to cover them both and petting Crowley’s hair. “I wasn’t even there when Shadwell dropped the-“

“I thought you _died_!” Crowley sobbed, her hands clenching against Aziraphale’s coat, leaving black marks on the pristine fabric. “They said you had an accident, but nobody would tell me what actually happened.”

“One of the steps broke,” Aziraphale said, breathing in the scent of smoke that stuck to Crowley. “I fell and was sent home to make sure I didn’t have a concussion. I wasn’t even there when the fire started.”

“Don’t leave me again,” Crowley said, relaxing against Aziraphale finally but her shoulders shaking with silent tears.

Aziraphale looked out over the empty parking lot. She thought of the disappointments and dismissals, the constant fear and the hiding, the belittling and how Crowley was the only one to over say a kind word and mean it.

“I won’t,” Aziraphale promised, and she was surprised at how easy it was to do so. “It’s just us, and I won’t leave, I promise.”

*

  
Aziraphale looked up at the small billboard above the freshly opened office space to Eden Talent Recruitment.

It was vibrant and green, as lush as Crowley’s plants back at home, with Eve sitting in the centre, flowers in her hair and smile on her lips. Crowley had shot it herself, insisting that she ought to be responsible for the launch and relevant artistic direction. She was half of Eden after all, and while Aziraphale worked behind the scenes Crowley would make sure they caught everyone’s eye.

“Well, what do you think?” Crowley said with a grin, holding Aziraphale closer to her side. They weren’t models anymore, and Aziraphale couldn’t care less if she was seen embracing a former rival while dressed like an old fashioned librarian.

“I think,” Aziraphale said, smiling back at her wife. “That our side will be quite the force to be reckoned with.”


End file.
